Choices
by Cyranothe2nd
Summary: ...Draco knew he should not trust the Potions Master, but he was offering everything the young Slytherin wanted in his life; autonomy, power, and the chance to control his own destiny..." Chapter Seven now up, please RR. This is a Draco-Ginny and Draco-Sn
1. One

Summary: What if Draco found he had no taste for torture? To whom would he go for help? Can he ever be redeemed? DM/GW and SS/HG.

Disclaimer: I disclaim.

Spoilers: Canon, all knowledge assumed.

"Remember, if the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right and what is easy…." Albus Dumbledore

**Chapter One**

There was a short knock.

"Enter." Growled an irritated voice. The door opened and for a moment platinum hair was haloed by the light outside. Then the student shut the door, plunging Snape's office once more into darkness.

"Professor Snape?"

"Yes, Mister Malfoy?" Malfoy lifted his wand to light the room but at a "Don't!" from the Potions Professor he hesitated.

"I am brewing Luminus Noir, Black Light. It allows the drinker to see in total darkness but is very sensitive to light." Snape bent over the cauldron. The moon lit him from behind and for a few minutes Draco watched him stir the potion. Finally Snape straightened.

"Well, Mister Malfoy?"

"Sir, I would like-" He hesitated again. Snape peered at him in the darkness. The words came out in a rush, tumbling over each other. "I want you to teach me Occlumency. My father said you know how. He said you were the best there was, besides Him. You could teach me how to do it."

Snape did not need to ask who _He_ was. "You wish me to teach you to shield your mind from the Dark Lord?" He asked carefully.

"No sir. From my father."

That was sufficiently interesting to make Snape abandon his cauldron.

"Lumos." He said. Light sprang up, blinding Draco. The potion in the cauldron began to smoke and hiss. "Evanesco." Snape waved his wand at it and the potion disappeared. He fixed the young Malfoy with a calculating stare.

"Sit. Enumerate."

Malfoy sat down but he did not explain himself immediately. Instead he looked around the office as though he hadn't seen it before. His grey eyes flitted from the pickled things in jars behind the desk to the cold fireplace to the moonlit window, never looking at the Potions Master. Snape watched him not looking at him for several minutes before he sighed.

"Mister Malfoy, as entertaining as watching you stare into space undoubtedly is, if you wish me to help you, you _will_ explain yourself."

Malfoy shrugged. "I just need you to teach me. My father doesn't need to know I learned it from you."

"Lucius would know it was I who taught you. You are asking me to betray a friend. Now, I wish to know why."

"My father's not your friend." Draco burst out. "He thinks you're a spy."

A useful piece of information. Snape filed it away to examine in the future.

"He would be a fool not to suspect me. Lucius Malfoy is many things but a fool is not one of them."

Draco shivered suddenly. "He plans to kill you, you know." He said matter of factly.

"I have no doubt of it." Snape returned coolly.

"I could help you. I could tell you when and where."

"If I teach you?" Snape's eyebrow rose. The blond head nodded. The Potions Master's lips thinned into a humorless smile. "I am, as the Dark Lord knows, an accomplished Legilimancer. I could take it from your mind."

He expected Draco to falter but instead the boy simply smiled coldly.

"You won't."

Snape's eyes narrowed. So, the brat wanted to test him, then? Time for Lucius' boy to learn a lesson. Snape looked deeply into Draco's eyes. "Legilimens." He said. The blond boy's face swam in front of his vision. And then Snape slipped easily into his mind.

_Draco was standing in front of his father's desk and the older Malfoy's cold voice was ripping him apart. "To be beaten at Quidditch by Potter is bad enough, but to be second to that Granger Mudblood in your marks…you are a disgrace to this family."_

_Draco was flying on his broomstick, the wind ruffling his hair and he was laughing._

_Draco was watching a small red haired girl from across the Great Hall, a mixture of desire and shame burning in his gut. _

_Draco watching as the Death Eaters tortured an elderly Muggle woman. "Your turn son." Lucius said to him. Draco raised his wand. "Crucio." He said but the spell faltered. Bellatrix laughed. "I'll show you how it's done, nephew." She said and Muggle began to scream. The woman writhed on the floor, howling in pain. The screams echoed in Draco's ears long after the Muggle was dead. And when he got home he went straight to his room and was spectacularly sick._

"Enough." Snape said and snapped back into his own mind. Draco was bent double in front of him, shaking and pale.

"Don't have the heart for torture, do you boy?" Snape asked. Draco jerked upright.

"Go to hell, Snape." He spat and turned on his heel.

"Mister Malfoy." Snape's silky voice stopped him at the door. "Eight o'clock tomorrow night." He said.

The boy nodded jerkily, wrenched open the door and was gone.

A half hour later Professor Snape was sitting in Dumbledore's office. The older man pulled his head out of the Pensieve and sat looking into the middle distance for a long time. Finally his bright blue eyes focused on Snape.

"You believe the boy can be saved, Severus?"

"Yes." Snape said simply.

"It is dangerous." Dumbledore said. "A distaste for suffering does not make a wizard good. There are many who stood by while Voldemort and his Death Eaters murdered and tortured. Are they any less guilty because they did not wield the wands themselves?"

"I don't know." Snape admitted. Dumbledore's eyes searched the younger man's face.

Very well." He said at last. "We shall give the boy a chance. But I warn you Severus, do not reveal too much. The boy may not enjoy inflicting pain but he is still his father's son. I fear he does not yet know where his loyalties lie. And if he chooses wrongly…" Dumbledore let the sentence hang but Snape knew well enough what it meant. Draco Malfoy would have to be dealt with, permanently.

"I will be cautious." He told Dumbledore. "I will not fail the boy."

"I know you will not Severus." Dumbledore replied. "But remember, you cannot save one who doesn't wish to be saved."

Snape inclined his head. It was enough that the boy had come to him. The rest would attend to itself.


	2. Two

Sorry for the delay, it took me longer than I would have liked to wrangle all the plot bunnies together…As you may have notices I have updated and consolidated chapters one and two into one. I also changed a few things so please everyone go back and reread it. 

Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to review. **Duj, **I'm pleased and flattered that you would read my fic, as I have been such an admirer of yours.

Finally, I do promise that this fic will be DM/GW with implied SS/HG. So without further ado, I give you….

Choices   
Chapter Two 

The next evening Snape began to teach Occlumency to Draco Malfoy. He was not sure that it wasn't a mistake. Barely a week after the battle at the Department of Mysteries the Dementors had defected to the Dark Lord's cause. Without the presence of the Dementors Azkaban prison was left almost entirely unguarded. It was only a matter of time before Lucius and the others escaped. The Dark Lord's ranks had begun to dwindle and the Dark Lord was pressing every Death Eater to initiate as many as possible. Lucius' son would very soon take the Dark Mark.

Snape remembered when he had received the Mark, how Lucius had smiled at him, hands coming up to cradle his pallid face.

"Severus." He'd crooned and Snape had felt elated by his approval.

_He had that effect on me then._ Snape thought.

He wondered if the boy felt the same odd desire to please, the same compulsion when Lucius looked into his eyes. But the boy had inherited his father's Veela blood so perhaps not. There was no doubt that the young Malfoy saw his disgust in harming others as a weakness and something to be ashamed of.

_He wishes to hide it from his father. _Snape thought._ Very well, we will start there._

"Mister Malfoy." Snape motioned him inside.

"What do you know of Occlumency?" The boy shrugged, not meeting the Potion Master's eyes.

_He knows that much at least_.

"Occlumency is the ability to seal the mind against magical intrusion and influence." Snape felt an odd sense of déjà vu. Not even a year ago he was saying the same words to a very different boy. But unlike Potter, Draco was nodding.

"Yes, I know. And it's twin, Legilimency, is the ability to extract thoughts and feelings from a person's mind."

"Exactly, Mister Malfoy. It is this that I will be teaching you to combat. Now, I want you to empty your mind of all feelings. Clear it. I will attempt to access your mind and you will try to stop me."

Draco nodded, pulling out his wand and pointing it at Snape.

"Now." Snape said softly. "Legilimens."

And as before Draco's mind opened to Snape's invasion.

_He was being brought to the Dark Lord. He bowed, trembling in front of him. Terror filled him. He felt stripped naked, totally exposed in the presence of a wizard so powerful._

"_My son, my Lord." Lucius introduced him. _

"_Ah, yes, of course." The Dark Lord's high cold voice said above Draco's head. "I expect great things from you when you join my ranks." Draco nodded, unable to speak. He stood up, backing away, terrified of looking up into that pale face and those red eyes. _

"_Draco Malfoy." The Dark Lord's arctic voice stopped him. "Severus Snape is your Head of House is he not?"_

"_Y-yes, my Lord."_

"_Seek him out. He had been a faithful servant of mine. He can teach you much."_

There was a grunt and Snape withdrew from the boy's mind. Draco had fallen to his hands and knees in front of the Potion Master's desk.

"I'm sorry sir." He said, getting up and brushing himself off. But he had purposely set that memory at the forefront of his mind. Snape felt himself smiling.

"Clever, Mister Malfoy. If you cannot stop me invading your mind then give me what you wish me to see. But do not think that a ploy like that will work on your father. If he wishes to extract something from you…"

"I know." The boy said.

"Again." Draco readied himself. "One…two…three…Legilimens."

Again Snape was sliding into his mind. He could feel the boy's resistance; his attempt to calm his thoughts, but his fear was palpable. This time he fought the memory that rose to meet Snape but the boy could not keep him from seeing it.

_His was standing before his father's desk and that cold voice was saying,_

"_I instructed you to befriend Potter. I told you to gain his trust! And what have you done instead?"_

"_Father…" Draco's voice tried to explain. _

"_NO!" Lucius slapped his hand onto the desk, his voice furious, his eyes glittering dangerously. "You will be punished."_

"_Lucius, I'm sure there is no need…" Narcissa's voice spoke up. She had been sitting in a high-backed chair on the other side of the room. _

"_Silence." Lucius hissed at her. "Do you dare defy me in front of the boy?"_

"_Lucius, surely…" The older Malfoy moved quicker than Draco's eyes could follow. He pulled out his wand and pointed it at Draco's mother._

"_Imperio." Narcissa's eyes went flat. Lucius turned to Draco. "Perhaps you both need instruction on obedience." He said. He motioned with h is wand and Narcissa stood up, unresistingly. She walked across the room to the fire and knelt down, her hands outstretched. _

"_No!" Draco cried but his mother was already reaching into the flames. Her hands w ere engulfed by the fire and the sickening smell of burning flesh filled the room._

"_Please father, it was my fault. I was the one that disobeyed. Please!" Draco was clutching at his father's robes, begging. The older Malfoy's wintry eyes silenced his son. He pulled his robes from Draco's pleading hands. _

"_You are a Malfoy." He hissed. "Remember that." Draco straightened up, hating his father. His mother was still kneeling by the fireplace; her hands charred black and her mouth open in a silent scream. Lucius stared into his son's eyes for a long moment, then turned away and motioned with his wand. Narcissa slumped back, falling away from the fire. Draco wanted to go to her but he dared not. He stood watching her, his throat constricted and his eyes burning. Lucius returned to his desk, sitting behind it and ringing a little silver bell. Dobby entered the room._

"_My wife seems to have had an accident." Lucius said calmly. "Take her to her room." _

"NO!" Draco's voice said and Snape felt himself forcibly expelled from the boy's mind. Draco stood in front of him, shaking and pale. Helpless tears wetted his cheeks and he looked at though he was going to be sick.

"Go out into the hall and collect yourself, Mister Malfoy." Snape said coldly. The boy went out and Professor Snape sat down heavily behind his desk, shaken. Snape remembered scenes from his own childhood uncomfortably close to what Draco had just divulged. Snape had been just Draco's age when his own rage had driven him to take the Dark Mark.

_Dangerous to see yourself in the boy_. He told himself. _Take care Severus._

But he had already chosen his course. There was no turning back now.


	3. Three

  
Choices   
Chapter Three 

Ginny Weasley skidded down the stairs, nearly colliding with a third year Hufflepuff as she tore down the hallway. It was ten minutes before curfew and she had left her notebook in Professor Snape's classroom. If it had been a textbook or a cauldron she would have left it until tomorrow but the notebook had all her class notes in it. She could never get her homework done without it. The notebook was a Muggle oddity; a neat, spiraled tome filled with lined pages. Her father had given it to her on her birthday last year and he had seemed so pleased with it that Ginny couldn't bear to tell him that Muggles used notebooks all the time. But she had to admit that it came in useful. At least it was more portable that a dozen scrolls!

Ginny dashed around a corner and down the chipped stone staircase that led down to the dungeon. She slowed as the well-lit corridors gave way to rough hewn passages lit by occasional wall scones. She turned another corner and saw Draco Malfoy leaning against the wall outside the Potions classroom. Ginny froze.

_What is_ he _doing here_? She thought. Ginny made to turn around, notebook be damned, but a low sound came to her ears and she stopped and stared at him.

Malfoy was sitting with his back to the wall. And he was crying. He was barely making any noise but Ginny could see his shoulders shaking. She stood staring at him in astonishment. His eyes were red-rimmed and his hair was mussed and he looked wretched. If it were someone else, practically anyone other than Malfoy for that matter, she would go to them at once. But this was different.

Draco swiped at the tears on his cheeks and gulping in a trembling breath and suddenly Ginny felt ashamed.

_Get a grip._ She told herself. _He's still human._

"Draco, are you okay?" Ginny asked, taking an uncertain step towards him. She had never called him by his first name but it seemed somehow rude to call him _Malfoy_ when he looked so miserable.

He blond boy started and looked up at her. She saw fear and embarrassment flicker over his face, before he fixed his usual sneer in place.

"Go away Weasley." He said but his voice came out flat.

Ginny drifted closer.

_What could have happened to make Draco Malfoy cry like that? _Ginny thought.

Understanding filled her. She reached into her pocket and held something out to him. He stared at her hand, then at her.

"It's a peppermint. My mum always gives them to me when I'm sick or miserable. They always make me feel better." Ginny smiled at him. Malfoy glared back at her and she could see his need to accept comfort war with his hatred of being pitied. Hatred won out. He slapped her hand away.

"Where'd you get that, Weasley, the bargain bin?" He stood up, fixing her with his usual haughty stare.

"Get stuffed Malfoy." Ginny said. She reached past him and opened the Potions classroom's door. To her surprise Professor Snape was sitting at his desk. His eyes narrowed when he saw her.

"Yes?" He said.

"Sorry sir. Just left something." Snape motioned her to get on with it. Ginny spied her notebook on a chair and grabbed it. She made to leave but Professor Snape's voice stopped her.

"Miss Weasley, can you please ask Mister Malfoy to come back in?"

Malfoy brushed past her into the classroom.

"You tell anyone about this Weasley and I'll kill you." He whispered furiously as he past. He didn't wait for her to retort, just shut the classroom door in her face.

Ginny waited all of about two seconds before she reached into her pocket and took out the Extendable Ears. She knew it was none of her business, but the sight of Draco Malfoy _crying_ had piqued her curiosity. Surely Professor Snape couldn't be that horrible to a student in his own house? She fitted the flesh-colored tube to her ear and the other end snaked under the door.

"Now, Mister Malfoy, if you have yourself together we will try again." Snape was saying. "Wand at the ready. Clear your mind. Now, one, two, three…Legilimens."

She heard nothing for a moment, then Snape's voice again. "That was better. I did not see much before you shut me out. But you must master your emotions or I will be able to break your barriers and take whatever I wish. Again…"

Ginny pulled out the Extendables and walked back to her dormitory slowly. She barely registered that she was past curfew and could get in big trouble for being out in the halls. Professor Snape was teaching Draco Malfoy Occlumency. Ginny knew all about Legilimency and Occlumency. After all, she had spent the last two summers in the company or Aurors. But why would Snape teaching Malfoy? Professor Snape was on _their_ side. And Malfoy was practically a Death Eater-in-training. If Ron where here she knew very well what he would say.

"_See, I told you Snape can't be trusted."_

But Hermione trusted Snape and Ginny tended to trust her friend's judgment more than her bother's. She wondered if she should tell anyone about this. But Harry and Ron hated Malfoy. She couldn't stand the thought of them laughing at the image of Malfoy crying. Ginny didn't feel like laughing about it at all. She felt sorry for him.

_Sorry for _Malfoy_? Sorry for the poor little spoiled rich boy?_

I've never seen Malfoy look so…sad. You should have seen him, Hermione." Ginny had pulled Hermione aside as soon as she'd entered the common room and told her everything. Hermione was now giving her an incredulous look.

"Oh, don't look at me like that. You would have felt sorry for him too."

"Don't count on it." Hermione said. "Draco Malfoy has been horrible to me. And to you and your family. I mean, the way he is always out to get Harry and Ron. And that song last year! And don't forget what his father…"

"Don't." It had been five years since her ordeal with the diary and Tom Riddle but Ginny still didn't like to talk about it.

"Sorry." Hermione looked sympathetic. Ginny shook her head. She didn't want to think of that. Not now, not ever.

"Just don't tell anyone else what I told you, alright?"

Hermione nodded. Ginny said her goodnights to Ron and Harry and went up to bed. But it was a long time before she could get the memory of Draco Malfoy's tearful face from her mind.


	4. Four

Chapter Four 

"Mister Malfoy." Snape's cool voice brought Draco around. He shook his head, trying to push down that sick helpless feeling that rose in him when Snape invaded his mind. He had been doing so well. For weeks now be had been able to block Snape. At first he had practiced merely calming his mind, clearing out all emotion. Then Snape began to teach him how to build his wall. It was made of trivial things; the shine on the toe of his shoe, the crack in the tile in front of Snape's desk, the catchy chorus of a song he'd heard last week. Snape called it white noise.

"Fill your mind up with it. Let it be all there is. Hide everything else behind it. Build it up like a wall in your mind."

But today Draco was having a very hard time focusing.

"Mister Malfoy." Snape said again.

"I'm sorry sir." Draco said. He rubbed a hand against his forehead, brushing his hair back.

That morning Draco had received an owl from his mother. That in itself was a miracle. Malfoys were never wasteful of words. The last time he had received an owl from home it had been in his second year, a short note from his father ordering him to stop asking questions about the Heir of Slytherin.

_Draco_, The terse note said, _You will be expected to return home for the winter holidays this year. There are family obligations that it is now your duty to perform. _

Draco knew which family duties he was expected to fulfill. The Dark Lord demanded that all the First Families have at least one member in his ranks. He had been a Dedicant to the Dark Lord for months. He would soon be expected to make the Offering to the Darkness and take his father's place as a Death Eater.

Draco found himself strangely ambivalent about this. When his father had first told him that he would be accepted to the ranks of the Dark Lord's intended Death Eaters Draco had been pleased and flattered. Finally, he could do something to make his father proud. Finally, he could do something that Potter could not do better. But that had been before his first Dark Revel. It had been before he'd seen the Cruciatus curse used on human flesh.

Draco could not credit his reaction. He had seen violence before. He was a Slytherin after all and Slytherins weren't afraid of shedding a little blood to get what they wanted. But in the moment the Muggle woman had begun screaming Draco had felt filled up with blood. He was tired of seeing violence and death all around him. The way his aunt's eyes had darkened with pleasure when she'd tortured the woman reminded him too much of the way his father had looked at his mother that day he had burned her hands. It filled him with terror and a sick sense of dread.

Draco closed his eyes.

"Sit down, Mister Malfoy. I have something to show you."

Draco did as he was bidden. Professor Snape disappeared into his office and came out a moment later, carrying an object wrapped in cloth. He it on his desk and unwrapped it to reveal a very old painting. It was small, no more than two hand spans wide, and the caked in dust and grime. Snape handed the portrait carefully to him and Draco took it, looking at it curiously. The man inside it was perhaps twenty. His hair was pale and his eyes were a bright cornflower blue. They looked out from the painting intently, as though trying to puzzle out an impenetrable mystery. His face was drawn into thoughtful lines and he stood straight with the confidence of a youth who had found a purpose in life. Draco had looked at the portrait for some time before he realized that it was not moving. It was a Muggle picture then.

Draco's eyes flicked up to Snape.

"Do you know who that is?"

Draco had a suspicion but he shook his head.

"It is your great grandfather, Cerulean Malfoy."

Draco's lip curled. Every Great House had one; a disgraceful member of the family who decided to turn their back on the Wizarding world and live life as a Muggle. His great grandfather had broken his wand and disappeared, leaving his wife and only son behind. His name was never spoken at Malfoy Manor. But why was Snape showing him this? Did he think he could blackmail him with this?

"I found this several years ago and thought that it should be returned to your family." Snape handed him another bundle. "There were also these." It was a small book. Draco flipped it open and read the first page.

_Will the transformation._

_Be inspired by the burning flame_

_In which something that boast of transformation withdraws._

_That scheme-devising spirit _

_That masters earthly laws_

_Loves nothing so much in the soaring symbols_

_As the point of turning._

The blond boy looked up, brow furrowed.

"You do not recognize it? Well, no matter. He was a poet."

Draco looked back at the portrait, considering. No one had ever told him what had happened to his ancestor after he'd left the Wizarding world. His leaving was in itself a cautionary tale…_one cannot exist without the Family_… and Draco had a perverse sense of satisfaction that Cerulean Malfoy had managed to make something of himself in the Muggle world.

"Why are you showing me this?"

Snape stood staring over Draco's head for a minute, one long finger rubbing his pointed nose. Finally he said,

"Because it is not safe to never question what you have been taught all your life. Good night Mister Malfoy."

_A/N The poem is actually by Rilke, from 'Sonnets to Orpheus'. Number 16 has always reminded me of Severus._

_**You my friend are so alone**_

**Because with words and pointed fingers**

_**Slowly we make the world our own**_

_**Perhaps the frailest part is most full of danger…**_

_**You know the dead**_

**_And are frightened by the sorcerer's spell_.**


	5. Five

Hi people, so sorry to keep you all waiting so long. I have been actively writing my PTO fics and it has been taking all my time away from HP. Slaps hand Bad Cyrano! I'll promise to update sooner if you promise to read and review. So, hope you enjoy it. Seriously, please read and review, constructive criticism is always welcome. 

**Disclaimer: No, I don't own it. **

Chapter Five 

In the weeks that followed Draco found himself more and more drawn to that slim folio of poetry. It was strange to be reading something so intimate about someone he barely knew. Cerulean Malfoy was nothing but a cautionary tale from his childhood. It was strange to read his journal, to see his thoughts on leaving the Wizarding world spelled out in Muggle lines of rhyme and meter. It was stranger still that those lines would touch him so.

Will the transformation…be inspired by the burning flame… 

Draco felt as winter break approached that he was standing at a "point of turning". When he had asked Snape to tutor him in Occlumency he had intended only to shield his own weakness and disgust from his father. He did not doubt that his father would return from Azkaban very soon. He also knew that his return would buy him no reprieve. It had always been Lucius Malfoy's intention that his son would follow in his footsteps and serve the Dark Lord in turn. But now…but now…

Draco had seen another world in Cerulean Malfoy's works, a world that did not include torture and darkness and death. But how could Draco grasp that world? He was not willing to give up the power that being a Wizard afforded him. He was not that desperate! How then to escape his father's plans?

It was not something he could speak of to others. He barely admitted it to himself. But little by little he was coming to realize that he must escape, that he could not fulfill the role he was expected to play.

_Any why should I? _Draco thought_. It would be more sensible to sit it out, to wait and see who wins. My father chose sides too early and look where it got him, prison and disgrace. _

He didn't want to be one of the good guys. He didn't want to be a noble hero like Harry-bloody-Potter. He had no reason to risk himself. And as the first Quidditch match of the season started, Slytherin versus Gryffindor, Draco considered how far he was willing to go to save his own skin.

"Hey Malfoy! Pay attention to the game!" Montague shouted at him. Draco snapped back to the present just in time to dodge a Bludger meant for him. He shook himself and leaned forward on his broom to circle the pitch, eyes searching every inch of the ground for a glint of gold. Above and to his right he knew Potter was doing the same thing. Last year Draco had been humiliated in front of everyone when the Great Prat caught the Snitch right in front of him. He'd managed to save a little face by picking a fight that got Potter banned for the rest of the year. But even that hadn't saved him from his father's disapproval.

_Really Draco, how does it feel to always be a step behind Harry Potter?_

His father had made him practice for two hours a day after that. His father had meant to humiliate him. But at least his punishment had been private. Draco was pathetically grateful for that. But those hours spent on his broom had made him burn with ineffectual rage.

Draco felt his lip curl into its familiar sneer. _Today, I will not lose to oh-so-perfect-Potter._ And just as he'd thought it Draco saw the Snitch zoom around Ginny Weasley's ankle and come to a fluttering halt directly in front of Gryffindor's center ring. He flicked a glance at Potter, whose specky eyes were still scanning the pitch. Good.

Gryffindor seems to have won every match it had played against Slytherin since that Potter boy became Seeker, Lucius' voice echoed in his son's ears.

Draco leaned into his broom, racing towards the goals. He snatched a glance behind him to see Potter had given up searching the field and was racing after him. Draco returned his attention to the front. Ginny Weasley had seen him coming and was racing to her center goal, ready to block him. Draco was going so fast that a collision seemed imminent, but he had no problem with knocking the Weaselette off her broom if he could get his fingers around the Snitch.

Draco reached out his hand. The golden orb was flying right towards him, bare inches from his outstretched hand. Out of nowhere a Bludger came flying at his head. Draco ducked to miss it but the Bludger circled back.

WHAM!

With a spectacular thump the Bludger had knocked him off his broom. Draco went tumbling end over end and landed gracelessly on the grass thirty feet below. There was a collective gasp from the crowd, followed by a tremendous cheer. Draco looked up to see Potter holding the Snitch.

_I recall that you could not even stay on your broom. Perhaps a Sticking Charm? _

His father had said that to him after his first game against Ravenclaw. He'd fallen then too, and badly sprained his wrist. Now he lay flat on his back, every inch of him aching and his nose bleeding. But the rage pouring through him made him jerk upright. He grabbed his broom, which was hovering in midair, and strode across the pitch to the Slytherin side. Draco wanted nothing more then to escape before his teammates made it to the ground. He wanted to get away before the crowd began to move and it became impossible to think of a good reason to be elsewhere. He showered quickly and changed back into his school clothes. Montague came in just as he was shrugging on his robe.

"Hey Malfoy, what happened out there?" He called but Draco silenced him with a deadly stare. He hoisted his broom to his shoulder and left.

Slytherin has not won the House Cup in seven years. Think on that as you practice.

"Shut up." Draco told his father's voice. "Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!"

"I didn't say anything." Said a voice behind him. Draco whirled to find Ginny Weasley standing a little way behind him. He fixed a mocking expression on his face.

"Weasley. Looking for loose change under the stands?"

"You're awfully snarky for someone who's just lost." The Weasley girl was looking at him with the usual Gryffindor arrogance.

"Shove off Weasley!" He said furiously.

"Fine." She turned on her heel, but paused, turning back. "Are you okay? You fell pretty far…"

Draco remembered the time she had come upon him crying outside Snape's office. He had expected her to laugh at him, to run and tell Potter and her brother how pathetic he was. But she hadn't. She'd kept quiet and as far and he knew she'd told no one at all. His eyes narrowed. No one did anything for free.

"Go to hell Weasley!" A hurt look flitted across her face and she turned and fled across the field and back up the castle.

Draco followed slowly, his body aching and his shoulder throbbing from where the Bludger had hit him. The common room was silent and no one looked at him as he entered. It had been this way since his father had been caught last year. But it was worse now. He could feel angry eyes on him, blaming him for the Slytherin loss. And when he closed the door he knew they would start to whisper about him. Draco lifted his chin and abandoned any idea of going to his room. Damn them all if they thought they could freeze him out. Draco glared at the room at large and flung himself into the nearest chair. And he didn't leave it until the last Slytherin had gone to bed for the night.

**A/N The idea of Cerulean Malfoy came from _Sorcerer's Stone_. Ron tells Harry that he had a non-magical cousin but "…no one ever mentions him." I did not write all Cerulean's poetry, it is Rilke's. **


	6. Six

**Sorry that this took such a dreadful long time. I promise to be more timely in future. Please R/R. Thanks to Duj, Corky 42, Yogaball and everyone else that reviewed. You guys really make my day!**

**Chapter Six**

It was all over the _Daily Prophet_ the next day.

_Azcaban Breakout! _

_Five escape Wizarding prison in biggest breakout in history!_

Snape sat at the head table and watched as Draco Malfoy took a copy of the paper from the school owl and scanned the headline. His body went still. With careful movements he folded the paper and set it aside. His face registered nothing as he picked up his fork and began to eat his eggs.

_Good boy_, Snape thought.

He had noticed that the young Malfoy had suffered a decided lack of popularity within his House after his father's incarceration. Even now avid Slytherin eyes were watching him for signs of weakness. Snape was more thankful than ever that the Headmaster had chosen to make Draco a Prefect. Not only did it give him a legitimate reason to be out of his dormitory for their weekly Occlumency lessons, but also the threat of losing house points kept the other Slytherins in line. Still Draco was ostracized and, though he didn't show it, Snape knew it must bother the boy.

He turned away, casting an eye over the Gryffindor table. The Golden trio were sitting together as usual, heads bent towards each other, whispering. _Planning ways to lose their house more points, no doubt._ Snape thought maliciously. He narrowed his eyes and looked away, catching sight of another bright red head. But this one was not turned to its companions. It was looking at the Slytherin table. Ginny Weasley was looking at Draco Malfoy.

Snape watched her watching his young pupil, an indefinable expression on her face.

_Interesting_. He thought. He looked again at the Slytherin table. Malfoy had noticed her and he looked back. His usual sneer was firmly in place but his eyes were softer than usual. _Most interesting._

Snape pondered this odd confluence and it's meaning as he readied himself for his final lesson with Draco before winter break. He had known that Lucius and the others had escaped before that morning, of course. During dinner the night before the Dark Mark had begun to burn furiously. It was all Snape could do to stumble from the head table and down to the Forbidden Forest before the urge to Apparate became overwhelming. He did so, appearing in what he privately referred to as the throne room.

The room was overwhelmingly red. From the plush carpet on the floor to the hangings on the wall, everything was the deep crimson of dried blood. Snape had always thought it odd that the Dark Lord should choose such a Gryffindor color, but then there was much about Voldemort that was contradictory. Dumbledore had once tried to explain what it had been like to know the Dark Lord in his youth and had ended up saying, "Well, his name is not Riddle for nothing!"

Snape's eyes darted around, shutting down that line of thinking. To think of the Dark Lord's enemy with anything but contempt in his presence was not only dangerous, it was suicidal.

Contrary to popular myth, Voldemort rarely tortured his Deatheaters. There was no need. They were a rabid lot; bullies like McNair or sadists like Bellatrix. Some, like Lucius Malfoy, were even true believers. Most sought out the dark wizard for power. Alone they were weak. And Voldemort knew how to exploit weakness, to keep them all just powerless and discontent enough to need him. And he was clever enough to know how to elicit their unswerving devotion. He let Bella have her fill of torturing Muggles. McNair was content to rut on his unwilling victims. And Lucius was fed with lies about a "new order" where wizards would master the world. They learned to love their Lord. There was never any need to test their loyalty with a Cruciatus. But traitors-well, that was another matter entirely.

Snape carefully blanked his mind; sinking into the stream of white noise he created to mask his true thoughts. He turned to the center of the room, where the Dark Lord sat upon a blackthorn chair that resembled a throne.

"My Lord." Snape murmured, making his obeisance.

"Severus." The high voice acknowledged him, drawing out the last "s" in a long syllabant hiss. Snape rose at the Dark Lord's bidding. He saw now that the others were there, lining the walls behind him. "Come." Voldemort said expansively, waving his Deatheaters forward. "Come and greet your returned brothers."

He motioned a skeletal hand to the door at his right. It opened and through it walked Marcus Mulciber, followed by Antonin Dolohov and the other Deatheaters captured during the fight at the Department of Mysteries. Snape stood with the others, frozen in shock. It was Bellatrix who moved first, flying across the room to embrace her husband. Soon the rest had crossed to welcome their escaped brothers and Snape found himself face to face with Lucius Malfoy.

He could hardly suppress a shocked gasp. The man was a wreck. Gone was the aristocratic grace of his face; his always-pale skin was ashy and stretched taut over jutting cheekbones and his grey eyes were flat and sunken. His wheat-colored hair was dulled to lifeless beige and he moved with the hesitance of someone in constant pain.

Severus felt anger fill him.

_The Aurors did this_! He thought. _They tried to break Lucius!_

He did not know what bothered him more, that they had used such tactics or that Moody and Shacklebolt had never bothered to tell him. He wrenched his mind away from that but not before Lucius saw the rage and hurt in his eyes. His pale lips quirked into an ironic smile.

"I assure you Severus, it's not as bad as all that." His voice, at least, had lost none of it's haughty precision. He reached out and clasped Snape's hand, looking deeply into his eyes. They stood in that tableau for a long moment, hand in hand as Malfoy's silver eyes gazed into his. It was only when Snape felt the feather-light stroking of Lucius' mind on his that he looked away, deliberately withdrawing his hand. Lucius smiled at him again, but there was an edge to his expression now.

"Tell me, how is my son?"

"He is well." Snape said.

"Our Lord expects him to take the Mark soon." Lucius said. His voice was casual but his eyes had strayed to the blackthorn chair.

"As the last scion of your house it would be…expected." Snape acknowledged.

Lucius' eyes searched the taller man's face. Snape revealed nothing of his meaning there but they had had this conversation before. The Dark Lord's victory was not assured. It was wiser to keep the boy away, to keep the family name sacrosanct. A lost cause now, in Snape's opinion. Since Lucius' arrest the names Malfoy and Deatheater had become synonymous. Still, it suited Snape's ends to let Lucius think that the youngest Malfoy could salvage the family name. Perhaps it would allow Snape more time to work on the boy.

"Yes." Lucius said thoughtfully.

The Dark Lord called them to attention then and they had no more time to talk. The meeting had not broken up until early in the morning and Snape Apparated immediately back to the Forest and trudged up to the castle. Draco appeared at his office door at precisely seven o'clock. The boy sat in the chair opposite his desk and took out his wand.

"Please put your wand away, Mister Malfoy. It will not be necessary." The blond boy look up in confusion but obeyed without question, stowing his wand in his pants pocket.

"I saw your father last night." Snape said without preamble. A queer look passed over Draco's face but was gone before Snape could identify it.

"Was he…well?" Draco asked carefully.

"He is much changed. But I believe he will be alright."

Draco nodded. Snape could almost feel him restraining himself. He reached out and brushed the boy's mind. _Relief that his father was safe coupled with fear that Lucius would force him to take the Dark Mark. Determination to show no weakness. Longing to be free of intrigue and danger. _

"Don't do that." Draco said. His walls came down and Snape found himself forcibly expelled from the boy's mind.

"Very impressive, Mister Malfoy. You have become quite an accomplished Occlumancer."

The boy inclined his head at the praise from his Head of House. Snape canted his head to the side. He had decided only that morning what he was about to show the boy. It was a risk. The boy could betray him. But if he succeeded it would be well worth it.

"There is something that I wish you to see." Snape said finally. He stood up and fetched a shallow stone basin from the shelf behind him. He set it on the desk and motioned Draco forward. Silver light shimmered around the rune-covered lip of the bowl and Draco bend forward, watching the shimmering stuff inside as it began to swirl more and more quickly. He felt Snape's hands pushing his head closer to the bowl and then he felt like he was falling headfirst into cold darkness.

He was standing outside in the dark. A figure in black robes stood at his left, and another on his right.

"Wha-" Draco started to say. The figure did not look at him, in no way acknowledged him, but a sliver of moonlight fell across it to reveal the silver glint of a mask. Draco gasped. A Deatheater!

The Deatheater turned towards him and Draco shrank back but he only motioned to his fellow. They both slipped silently forward. Soon they were joined by two more figures in black robes. Draco followed along at a safe distance behind. Where was he? Why couldn't they see him?

A farmhouse loomed in the distance, white paint made pearly by the moonlight. A dog barked. A whispered word from one of the Deatheaters silenced it. The leader reached the gate first and with a wave of his hand the others halted behind him. He raised his thin wand and pointed it at a corner of the house. A jet of green light erupted from the end. For a moment it seemed like that was all. Then the wood burst into the flames.

The flames spread quickly up the side of the house. Black smoke billowed upward to obscure the moonlight. Four masked faces stood watching the flames for long moments and then the leader spoke.

"Crabbe, Goyle, go around back and make sure no one escapes." Draco felt his face drain of color. He knew that voice well. It was his father's.

Two of the robed figures moved off. It took only a few moments for an alarm to go off inside the house. Draco knelt in the shadow of a tree just behind the Deatheaters. Why was he here? Why was he seeing his father do this?

As though to answer the question his father turned to the man next to him.

"Ready Severus?" The other man nodded.

It was Snape. And Draco remembered the basin and it's silvery contents. He was not really here. That's why his father couldn't see him. He was inside a memory, Snape's memory.

Draco could hear shouting from the house now. There was the closing and opening of a door, followed by a woman's shrill scream. The front door was flung open and a pajama-clad man stumbled outside, clutching a small child to his chest. He gasped as he saw the masked figures standing at his front stoop.

"Help us please! The house is on fire!"

"Yes. I know." Draco heard his father say. He moved forward, forcing the man back inside. He stepped inside, Snape following close behind. Draco darted forward.

"Wait! What the hell are you doing?" The Muggle tried to sidestep his father but Lucius already had his wand out.

"Helping." He replied coldly.

The curse doubled the man over. He dropped the child and clutched his stomach, howling with pain. Lucius caught the child and lifted her into his arms. The little girl's eyes were huge and tears gathered as she stared at her father, writhing and screaming in agony.

"Shhh, little one. Don't cry." Lucius said in a false crooning voice. He reached up and stripped off the mask, revealing his handsome face. "Your daddy is going to die, little one. And do you know why?" He leaned close to the little girl and spoke softly into her hair. "Because you were a bad girl."

Draco felt horror fill him at the coldness in his father's eyes.

"Get your filthy hands OFF my daughter!" A voice said. The Muggle's wife stood on the stair and there was a wand in her hand. "Acc-" She began. A beam of green light struck her and she crumpled. The child howled. Draco turned to see Snape with his arm still outstretched and his wand pointed at the woman.

"Very good Severus." Lucius said. "Did you kill her?"

"No." The slighter man answered.

"Good." He set the child down. The girl immediately began to scream, running for her mother. "Now, now little one." Lucius caught the girl with a curse that sent her flying across the room and into the waiting arms of one of the other Deatheaters, Crabbe or Goyle, Draco couldn't tell which. She screamed again. And again and again until her screaming was abruptly silenced. Draco felt sick. His father stepped toward the girl's unconscious mother. Her wand lay on the ground next to her and he took it up and very deliberately snapped it in half.

"Enervate." The woman's eyes flew open. A whimper of terror escaped her throat and Lucius was on her in an instant. Draco turned away and stumbled from the house, unable to watch any more. A moment later Snape followed him. Draco watched as he flung himself across the manicured lawn, a trembling hand removing his mask. He looked young, almost the same age as Draco. He crouched down with his back to the house, clutching his head in his hands. Draco moved closer and just then Snape looked up and his pale face was full of dumbstruck horror. He leaned over and vomited.

Lucius came outside, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle. "Severus, were have you gone off to?" Snape stood quickly, forcing his face into impassivity.

"Here." He said.

"Let's go then." The house was well and truly burning now. The conflagration painted the sky in a lurid orange hue. Draco could see the tracks of tears on Snape's face. The others seemed not to notice. Lucius had donned his mask and he turned back to the house, lifted his wand and muttered a word Draco did not hear. A whoosh of light jetted from the tip of his wand and the Dark Mark blossomed like a deadly flower over the house.

"So always to blood traitors." He intoned and clapped Snape on the shoulder. "Not bad for your first time Severus, but the Dark Lord will expect more participation from you in the future."

Snape tensed and seemed on the verge of saying something but it was lost because Draco felt himself being pulled backward. Coldness filled his body as he opened his eyes to the Potion Master's office. He turned away from the desk and bent over the chair in front, breath coming in short gasps. He kept his back to Snape, fighting to beat back his revulsion at the scene he had just witnessed.

_My father did that. My father…. _Draco fought the urge to be sick. He felt disgusted and violated and suddenly very very angry. He turned on Snape.

"Why did you show me that? WHY?"

"Mister Malfoy-" The professor started but Draco cut him off.

"He is my father, do you understand that? I didn't want to see that! I don't want to know that! HE IS MY FATHER!"

"And yet you seek to defy him." Snape said calmly.

Draco's face paled as the implications of that set it. He had known his father was a ruthless man but his privileged position as the only heir of Malfoy had always assured him that his father's cruelty would not spill over onto him. But if he resisted his father he would no longer be able to claim the protection of his birthright. Lucius would not brook disobedience.

Draco's mind raced. "What must I do?" He asked.

And so Snape told him.


	7. Seven

**Choices**

**Chapter Seven**

The broom ride home was long and very cold. Draco could have taken the Floo but he wanted time to consider what Snape had said to him.

"Remember the motto of Hogwarts, Mister Malfoy. _Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus_ . Your father may be dangerous but so are you."

"How?"

"I will show you. I will teach you how to become a wielder of power."

Snape told him that for now he would have to conform to the Slytherin ideals of submission and planning. But soon, very soon, he would be in a position to take charge of his own life.

But could he believe Snape? Why would the Potions Master help him? And to what end?

Nothing was ever free. Of that Draco was certain.

It had taken Draco most of the night to recover from the horror of seeing his father as a murderer and divine the real reason Snape had shown him that particular memory. He could not forget the revulsion on the Death Eater's face as he sat outside and listened to his friend rape a woman. Draco had felt that revulsion when he had seen Bellatrix torturing the Muggle. He'd felt it for his father that night.

Snape did not enjoy being a Death Eater the way Bellatrix or his father did.

But he was still a Death Eater.

And therein laid the problem. Draco knew he should not trust Snape. Yet the Potions Master offered him something he had never possessed; autonomy and control over his own life.

Draco bent over his broom, flying lower as he spotted Malfoy Manor far below him. He touched down in the formal gardens behind the house. A house-elf rushed forward, stuttering a greeting as it took his broom from him.

"My Lord wishes to speak with you, young Master."

Draco nodded at the creature and negligently motioned it away. He went up to his room and changed clothes quickly. His father would reprimand him if he showed up in soiled robes. Draco caught sight of himself in a mirror as he made to leave his room. He stood for a moment and gazed into his own grey eyes, the image of his father's. The words of his mother's last letter stood out starkly in his mind. " _There are family obligations that it is now your duty to perform... "_

Draco wrenched his mind from that thought. He took a long breath and let it out slowly, relaxing his body and filling his mind with the lines of poetry from the book hidden in the bottom of his trunk at school.

_I make my way through massive rock,_

_like a vein of ore, alone, encased… _

He smoothed his hands down the front of his dark green robes and nodded at himself.

The library was stuffy and over warm. His father was sitting behind his mahogany desk. The firelight painted his face in lurid colors and it was only as Draco stepped further into the room that he saw how pinched and pale that face was.

"Father?" Lucius raised his head and his sharp eyes took in his son. Draco saw a stab of something- Disappointment? Irritation? -cross his father's face but it was gone too quickly to tell.

"Come here, Draco."

Draco crossed the room until he was standing in front of the massive desk. His father's icy eyes flickered over him and Draco had to force himself to stand still. There was a tentative brush on his mind.

_This horrible darkness makes me small,_

_I don't know enough about pain to escape..._

"How is school going?"

"Well." Draco answered noncommittally. The insidious brush on his mind had become a gentle push.

_ So deep in darkness,_

_I can see nothing_...

"And your marks?" The push was more forceful now.

_ Everything is closing in,_

_I fear I am turning to stone... _

Draco was proud of how casual his voice sounded as he answered, "Outstanding in every class, except Care of Magical Creatures."

"Ah." His father's eyebrow rose. "That is Hagrid's class, is it not?" As he said the half-breed's name his probe took on a sharper edge. Sweat broke out on Draco's forehead but his voice remained steady. He even managed to sneer a little.

"Yes. I still can't believe that Dumbledore made that clod a teacher."

"I see not all your teachers are as incompetent." Lucius said silkily. He brushed once more against his son's mind and then slid out of Draco's consciousness.

Draco did not answer. His father was looking at him again, but his face has taken on a calculating expression that made Draco's skin crawl.

"Yes," Lucius whispered, half to himself. "I see that you can be taught." His eyes focused on Draco again. "You may go."

It was not until he reached his room that Draco allowed himself to drop his walls enough to relive that calculating look and to wonder what it meant.

**A/N: The poem that Draco recites is from Rilke's i Book of Hours /i . I omitted the last four lines of the poem because they brought forward a different theme.**

**Thanks for all those who faithfully read and review. I know I'm taking my own sweet time but I'm going somewhere with this and appreciate you coming along for the ride.**


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